Creepy Karaoke (Return of the Fridge)
by Tiki Rocket
Summary: Faye decides to make the biggest mistake of her life when she treats everyone to a karaoke night at the local bar. Some of the guest singers are a little... alarming...


TITLE: Creepy Karaoke  
AUTHOR: Tiki Rocket  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own the characters. Please don't sue me, original owners, my petty cash is not worth your time.  
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This was a challenge from a friend on the CCoC mailing list. This is also probably the cleanest CCoC fic to ever be written. Enjoy! Comments, flames, and small shrubbery gladly accepted. Flaming shrubbery will be returned. Roses are okay. Ice cubes are too cold.  
  
  
  
  
  
"This was all Faye's fault," I thought as I ran. "The whole damn mess, from the drinking to the singing to the drunken singing, was entirely Faye's fault.  
"Well, maybe not the drinking...."  
Then I realize: who's really worse? The fool, the fool who follows her, or Jet for not stopping any of us?  
*  
"Spike! It's open mic night at the Karaoke bar!"  
We'd stopped back on Earth for something only Jet seemed to be concerned with; one of his Bonsai trees suffered Ed's attempt to be Jet, and the only person he thought could fix it lived on the home planet. I think he should just let it go. It's just a plant.  
Jet delivered the plant to it's last hope and returned to the ship, fretting the whole time, while Ed apologized cheerfully (which didn't help) and Faye said things like "You know, I'm pretty sure that tree's not coming back alive" (which made things worse).  
I had pulled her aside finally, and whispered forcefully, "Would you STOP reminding him he's probably gonna lose that dumb plant?"  
She shrugged. "If it's a dumb plant, why's he getting so bent out of shape about it?" I squeezed her arm, causing her to cry out in annoyance at me. "Hey, leggo!"  
"You and I realize it's a dumb plant, a dumb hobby, and he's got a room full of other ones to take care of. He is attatched to ALL of them. If you don't think of some way to distract him, I'll lock you in his bonsai room with him for a couple hours so you can 'get to know the bonsai'."  
Faye blanched visibly, and said no more about the bonsai tree.  
Naturally, she thought to one of Jet's other hobbies.  
"Come on, you two! I know Jet could probably use something to drink right now, and Ed and I can go sing, and Spike can help Jet finish his drinks-"  
"How about you calm down and stop talking for a while?" Jet said dully, eyes half glazed over, staring at his synthetic thumbnail.  
"I didn't want to do this, but..." Faye muttered under her breath, glowering at the wall. Then, she turned to face us again, changed her expression to a smile, winked, and said, "I'll pay."  
This took me off guard. Since when does Faye willingly pay for anything? It even caught Jet's attention.  
"Huh," he grunted. "Anything's gotta be worth it if Faye'll actually pay." That said, he stood up and headed for the door.  
"Edward's coming!" a high voice called from a remote end of the ship.   
"How can she hear us from over there?" Faye asked.  
I shrugged. "Kind of a special child."  
"Yeah, in more ways than one..."  
*  
Those were mistakes one and two on Faye's part: Not shutting up about the damn trees, and then taking us to a karaoke bar. Number three was the bar she picked that evening.  
It wasn't a bad place; clean, organized, not too many shady characters. Compared to the places we usually slink into for bounty information, this was ritzy. We picked a table near the back, away from the stage. Once we got Ed to sit down, things were fine.  
Then Faye decided to sing.  
She sang what was, quite possibly, the worst rendition of the late twentieth century song "I Want To Be Rich" that mankind has ever heard.  
...I want money lots and lots of money  
I want the pie in the sky  
I want money lots and lots of money  
So don't be asking me why  
I wanna be rich!  
What added to it's wretchedness was how many guys between the ages of 20 and 90 came to our table in the back and offered money for 'services' within the next hour. She turned them down cheerfully, unless they were persistent.  
Jet and I just kept drinking. Eventually, we knew, we'd be too drunk to care what Faye did, and the vocalists might even start sounding good. Or so we hoped.  
Karaoke bars are the worst places in the world you want to go for a night of entertainment unless you are either tone deaf or unfazed by bad singing. This night's line up was the best of the worst by far. So you can imagine my surprise when the announcer said into the microphone, "and now I welcome to the stage, Vicious!"  
I drunkenly looked up at the stage, mind sobering up faster than I thought humanly possible as the fight or flight instinct kicked in. There, on stage, was my nemesis Vicious, his ever- present bird shadowing his shoulder like a demon. Jet saw me tense up, and said, "Don' wurry 'bout 'im, 'e probly wouldn' start sumthin' in the middle uva bar. 'Sides, with a name life Fishess, how much trouble could 'e be?"  
"I like fishes cuz their soo delicious!" A high voice belted into the microphone. Confused, Jet, Faye, and I looked toward the stage.  
Ed.  
"Dammit, Ed, get away from there!" Faye shouted, rushing up and pulling the girl off the stage, apologizing to Vicious. Vicious watched, stone faced, but the light glinting in his eyes hinted at his amusement.  
"Kids don't belong in bars," I heard his growling voice reply.  
"We had nowhere else to put her," Faye said, "or else we would've put her there." With that, she hurried back to the table. "That was too disturbing," she muttered.  
Another voice bellowed from the speakers that scared me just as badly as hearing Vicious was on stage.  
"Blue moon!" it cried. "You saw me standing alone! Without a dream in my heart, with out a love of my own!"  
It wasn't Vicious singing.  
It was the bird.  
The whole bar fell silent while the bird sang. It actually had a wonderful singing voice, and probably would've gotten a better applause if it hadn't shocked the audience into silence.  
Once Vicious and the bird left the stage, the bar gradually got noisier, and the other attenders moved for the stage again. "Damn," I muttered. "now I gotta get drunk all over again...."  
Hours went by. Jet slowed his alcohol intake, but I was getting the impression we'd end up carrying him back to the ship. It wouldn't be much longer before he was heading for the bathroom, I guessed.  
The singing got better for a little while, as the crowd dwindled. That's when all the shy people who doubt their miraculous talent start to come out, afraid to sing in front of everyone but confident enough to know that half the bar being filled was good enough. Or maybe I was too drunk to notice how bad their singing was. It didn't matter to me.  
Until The Fridge came on.  
Our whole table gaped in shock when we saw it. It was the fridge that had contained the rock lobster. The one I pushed out of the air lock. The one who's contents had bitten and poisoned each member of our crew.  
The one I thought I'd gotten rid of into the atmosphere. Somehow it survived, and was now onstage, preparing to sing.  
A black blob oozed out of it, reached out is tar-like self to grab the microphone and pull it closer, and from somewhere within it, a voice sang out:  
There's something weird in the fridge today  
I don't know what it is  
Food I can't recognize  
My roommate won't throw a thing away  
I guess it's probably his  
It looks like it's alive...  
  
And livin' in the fridge... livin' in the fridge  
Livin' in the fridge... livin' in the fridge  
  
There's something dross in the fridge today  
It's green and growin' hair  
It's been there since July  
If you can name the object  
In that baggie over there  
Then mister, you're a better man than I  
  
It's livin' in the fridge  
You can't stop (dysentary) the mold from growin' (dysentary)   
Livin' in the fridge  
Can't tell what (dysentary) it is at all (dysentary)  
Livin' in the fridge  
You can't stop (dysentary) the mold from growin' (dysentary)   
Livin' in the fridge  
  
Tell me, do you think it should be carbon dated  
Fumigated or creamated and buried at sea?  
You try to save a little bit of you're home cookin'  
Couple weeks later, got a scary-lookin' specimen  
It always happens my friend  
Again & again & again & again  
  
Somethin' stinks in the fridge today  
And it's been rottin' there all week  
It could be liver cake or wooly mammoth steak  
Well, maybe I should another peek...  
When The Fridge finished the last line, it's door slowly began to swing open, creaking as it moved. A foul smell blasted it's way across the room, and before most of the people present could even see inside, everyone was screaming and running for the door. As I ran down the street, half-dragging Jet behind me, Ed slung over my shoulder, and Faye hot on my heels, I could hear the final verses of the song. I didn't bother to listen.  
*  
Ed sang the Goldfish commercial song for the next 3 days after the karaoke incident. For the first 24 hours, it was murder, especially with the nasty effects of the hangover still taking it's toll, but it eventually turned into background noise. I almost missed it when she gave it up in favor of singing her responses and babbling to us instead of the usual rambling.  
Jet got his bonsai back a week later. It was on the way to recovery, even if it didn't look like it; actually, it looked like it had been run over by a lawn mower. I didn't tell Jet as much, and elbowed Faye before she could say it. Couldn't catch Ed in time, unfortunately, but Jet didn't seem to notice anyway. He was too happy to hear it could be saved.   
Faye was probably surprised that none of us got any shorter tempered with her than we did after the Karaoke incident. She knew how painful the experience was for all of us. But you know, it didn't seem so bad when we looked back on it, and do you know why?  
Because she paid for it.  
Nearly $100 worth of hard alcohol.  
It was worth it. 


End file.
